


Christmas but make it Horror

by Alecks_Lee



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Cannibalism, Gore, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Multi, Sorry guys this doesn’t end happily :(, Suicide, Violent Deaths, graphic depictions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alecks_Lee/pseuds/Alecks_Lee
Summary: Written for Ren’s Halloween Fic challenge.My random Prompt was ‘Christmas’ 😌-x-Someone is hunting down the Losers one by one.Someone they all know and trust.It’s one of them.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: HallowRen's Spooktacular IT Project





	Christmas but make it Horror

**Author's Note:**

> Big, BIG, thank you to the loveliest man alive for beta reading and helping me flesh out this fic so it flows smoothly.
> 
> Lock, babe, I would die for you. 
> 
> And thank you to Ren for hosting this challenge! And it certainly WAS a challenge. Christmas? But scary? Fucking crazy hard, but I think the end result is good. I hope you all enjoy it!

“Do I _have_ to stay, Richie?” Stan whines, throwing a pillow at him from the spot on his bed. 

“You _do._ ” Richie says cheerfully, throwing a wrapped gift in his direction, “And here’s your present you whiny baby.” 

Stan tears into it eagerly. He tries not to laugh when he sees the hideous thing, “Thanks, Rich.” He deadpans and Richie presses an exaggerated kiss to his temple.

“Anythin’ for you toots.” 

Stan shoves him away laughing.

“You give the others their gifts too?” 

“Uh, _duh_.” 

“You’re such an impatient ass.” Stan still puts his gift on, scratching slightly at the material. 

“Fine fine, I’ll stay. But!” Stan interrupts Richie’s fist pump, “But I’m taking a bath as soon as everyone’s here. 20 minutes of privacy before I have to deal with you fuckers for 48 full hours.” 

“You drive a hard bargain Uris, but...it’s a deal,” Richie slings an arm over Stan’s shoulders, “Now let’s go wait for the guests to arrive.”

-x-

It’s a big affair, but they’re really only waiting for Bev. The six guys share a fraternity. Somehow Richie convinced the actual _Dean of the College_ to let them use the old two story on campus for a frat. 

Truthfully, Stan thinks it was an excuse for them all to house together. There was more than enough room and Stan has a sneaking suspicion that’s why the Dean let him do it. 

None of the Losers got along with other people. People complained about Bill’s messy room or how he’d sometimes wake from nightmares screaming his brother's name. People complained about Eddie’s incessant need for cleanliness and Stan’s passion for birdwatching. 

And people _always_ complained about Richie’s general... _everything_. Each of them had gone through half a dozen different roommates since getting to college and Stan was sure it was stressing out the people in charge. 

It was easier, ultimately, to convince the Dean to let them all have the old empty sorority house for them to room with each other. 

And so far it’s worked. Bill’s been helping them all with their English, Richie’s been a fairly good tutor for their Math classes, and practicing lines for theater and drama with him is always fun. 

Plus they can have Bev over whenever they want. She’s not allowed to actually room with them, some dumbass rule about boys and girls not sharing spaces, but she comes over frequently enough that she has her own room anyway. 

When she finally walks into the house she’s brushing snow off her shoulders. “Jesus fuck, it’s _awful_ out there.” 

“Gimme your jacket so you don’t get snow on the rug.” Eddie is helping her get out of her jacket as Richie hands her a wrapped gift. She has a feeling she knows what it is when she sees the rest of them in their tacky holiday sweaters. She smiles when she opens it and sees that, yes, it is a sweater. 

“I tried calling before I left, I knew I’d be slowed down from this weather.” She shimmies into her sweater, grateful for the warmth it brings immediately, “But I couldn’t get through. It was just silence on this end.” 

“Huh, that’s weird. Maybe the lines are down. Glad you made it safely though.” Richie says nonchalantly. 

Stan shakes his head, but keeps to his word, as soon as she’s in the door he says hello to her and then tells them all to “Fuck off so I can go bathe.”

“No masturbating in the tub, Uris! It’s the communal bathroom.” Richie calls to his back and he smiles when he hears Ben chime in.

“Richie, you’ve jacked it so many times in there we had to pour bleach down the drain!” 

“Which is a shame really, I still insist someone should have drank it through a straw.” 

Stan is grateful that all he hears as a response is a collective groan when he gets to the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He does _not_ need to hear the rest of _that_ conversation. 

He still kinda thinks this whole thing is stupid. He doesn’t even _celebrate_ Christmas. But…he smiles softly when he looks down at his sweater that Richie gave him.

It’s an ugly Hanukkah sweater, tacky and hideous and absolutely fitting with the rest of the Christmas sweaters Richie bought them. He wonders if it’s a bribe to get his gifts early too. 

Knowing Richie? Probably. 

Right now he just wants a bath, and to get away from the happy couples. Ugh, they’re all so _lovey-dovey_ . Stan sighs as he starts the water, enjoying the background noise so he doesn’t have to _think._ He’s almost glad Patty’s not here. There are _some_ perks to long distance relationships...but maybe the distance isn’t one of them. He misses her. 

Stan shakes his head to clear his thoughts. This is fine. They’re all together, they’re having fun, this is _fine._

As he undresses to get into the bath he thinks maybe he’ll give Richie his present early so they can all share it. He has to be high if he has to deal with all his friends. They get so fucking _rowdy_ this time of year. 

It seems like more so than usual if the thumping from downstairs is anything to go by. But he kind of gets it, this is their first Yuletide holiday away from their parents, away from _Derry_. It’s nice. He gets that. He understands. 

The steam curling from the water has him smiling. There’s something so comforting about getting into a nice warm bath. He hisses softly as he steps into it, the heat making his leg tingle in slight discomfort. 

But it’s worth it. Especially when he turns the water off and hears the soft dripping of the faucet in the otherwise quiet bathroom. He closes his eyes and sighs softly. 

He loves his friends. He really does, but sometimes, like now when someone is opening the bathroom door and walking in, he’s so exhausted to be around them. 

He groans softly, not opening his eyes, “Come on man, or Bev, just let me bathe in peace. I’ve gotta spend a whole weekend with you all, can’t I have like 20 minutes of—”

The feeling of the thing that slits his throat has his eyes shooting open. It’s frigid compared to the heat from his bath. He makes eye contact with his assailant as his hands shoot to his throat to stop the bleeding.

“Why are you even _here,_ Stan?” His voice is low and dangerous, hatred and malice in his eyes, “You don’t even celebrate, Christmas. You should have fucking stayed home. No one wanted you here.” 

Stan’s heart hurts. This was one of his friends, how could he do this to him? 

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, and then his head is pushed underwater and his last thought is of Patty and how much he loves her. 

-x-

“Jesus, Stan’s _still_ in the bath?” Richie asks, coming back into the room from another part of the house, a new shirt on, “He’s gonna be a fucking _raisin_ when he gets out.”

“It’s _prune,_ dipshit.” Eddie snaps as he messes with the lights, trying to get the tinny music to stop, “Turn _off_ , motherfucker.” 

There’s a collective cheer as he finally gets the blaring of _Jingle Bells_ to stop. 

“Damn, and you didn’t even break it, good job Eddie.” Bev laughs as she decorates the tree. 

Eddie rolls his eyes as he stands up, checking his watch. 

“Richie’s right, Stan’s been in there for like...an hour and a half.” He looks a little worried as he shoots a glance at Bill, “Maybe one of us should go check on him?” 

“Shit, let’s all do it.” Richie says cheerfully, “Let’s rain on his fucking parade.” 

They all roll their eyes and laugh.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Ben says softly as they all head towards the big bathroom, “Probably just fell asleep in the bath again.”

“Yeah, we’ve all been there.” Richie laughs, slinging an arm around Bill’s shoulder as they walk up the stairs together, “Right Big Bill? Get off a good one and then just pass out from the force of it.”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Mike says between laughs.

-x-

They knock on the door before opening it, worry finally taking hold when Stan doesn’t answer.

“Stan?” Richie calls out, voice hesitant and unsure. 

There’s a metallic tang in the air that they can’t place until they’re _in_ the room. 

There’s a lot of blood. More than Bill thought was possible to be in a body. The bath water is bright red and Stan’s head is tilted back, staring at the door with unseeing eyes. 

“Oh my god.” Bill gasps and then gags as he runs from the room.

“I’m gonna be sick.” Bev whispers, also fleeing. 

“What the _fuck?”_ Eddie’s voice is high and strained, his hands shake as he looks at Stan and the fallout from the slit throat. They see the knife that did it on the floor, just out of reach of his fingers. 

“Jesus, if he didn’t want to stay for the weekend he could’ve just said so.” Richie laughs a little, but it’s forced, his face tight with emotion as he sits beside the tub.

He reaches out and is careful as he cradles Stan’s head to his chest. And then the dam breaks and they can hear him sobbing softly to himself. Mike’s heart goes out to him, he feels so much sympathy in that moment. 

“Let’s give him a minute guys.” Mike whispers, ushering the others from the room. The mood is much less jolly than it was a mere 10 minutes before.

-x-

“Rich.” Ben's voice is soft, reproachful when they decide they should reconvene downstairs. Mike reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder and Richie shrugs it off violently, avoiding their eyes. He stands abruptly and leaves the room, shirt now stained with blood.

“Let’s...Let’s go back downstairs.” Mike says softly, guiding Eddie away from the doorway as he sobs into his hands, unable to walk into the room itself. 

As they’re leaving Richie comes back into the room with towels. It’s obvious now what he wants to do. 

“We can’t move him.” Bill calls from the hallway, an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. 

“Fuck that, he’s _not_ staying in the fucking _bathroom,_ Bill.” Richie snarls.

Bill glares in at him, “If we move him we can be implicated in his fucking _murder_.” 

It’s a jarring word and no one wants to admit it was murder. No one wants to admit it’s suicide. But it’s something and Stan’s dead now. Mike and Ben shoot a glance at each other before helping Richie. 

Ben helps him work to get Stan from the tub, draining it and drying him off. Several of the towels are stained with watered down blood now but it’s a small price to pay, Mike thinks. 

The three of them slowly bring Stan downstairs, Bill refusing to be a part of it. Richie’s eyes are red and Mike keeps quiet, unable to blame him for breaking down even when he was alone. 

-x-

When they get downstairs they’re all a little panicked. But Mike keeps a level head, tries to keep calm. Bringing Stan downstairs wasn’t the easiest choice but he knew it had to be done. Stan would have wanted to be in his room. 

Richie is still in Stan’s bedroom after placing his body into the bed, he’s probably tucking him in or talking to him. Saying his goodbyes. He rejoins them a moment later, rubbing his eyes. 

“Are we _sure_ , it wasn’t a suicide?” Ben asks, but he knows the answer. They all do. Stan’s scars have long since healed on his wrists and he would never have slit his own throat. 

‘That’s too messy.’ He had told them all previously when he was healing in the hospital. 

Someone staged this scene to _look_ like a suicide. And Mike thinks he knows who. It was someone who didn’t visit Stan with them that day. But as he glances at him, eyes haunted and red from tears, he thinks there’s no way he could have done it. He’s just as hurt and saddened by this as everyone else is. 

-x-

Mike sighs as he closes the fridge. It must be _someone_ in the house. He thinks back to who left the room after Stan. 

Richie, Bev, and Eddie had left to do various things. Leaving him, Ben, and Bill alone in the living room to laugh and chat and eat the caramel popcorn Mike learned how to make. 

It wasn’t him or Bill or Ben. It must have been one of the others.

But _who?_

He glances at the fridge’s chrome surface, seeing someone reflected there and he smiles to himself when he sees who it is.

“Hey—” He’s slammed into the fridge, a knife pressed to his throat, _oh, so it_ **_is_ ** _him_ _._

“You’re next. Don’t go too far.” He whispers and then he’s stalking away and Mike is terrified but he frowns and then glares, he could take him. It’d be easy enough. Mike’s big enough. Strong enough. 

He follows after him, heading outside. The wind is cold and he shivers. He wishes he brought his jacket. 

When he opens his mouth to call out he feels something heavy hits his neck and then he’s collapsing onto the ground in a heap. He feels like his neck is heavy and not there all at once. He tastes iron on his tongue before he’s gone.

-x-

“Hey, has anyone seen Mike?” Eddie asks, coming back from the bathroom at the same time Richie’s walking back in from outside. 

“N-no.” Bill mutters, engaged in a heated game of War with Bev.

“I saw him in the kitchen a while ago.” Bev responds, not looking up from the cards on the table. 

Ben stands up, placing his book on the coffee table. 

“I’ll look for him.” He sounds melancholy and sad even to his own ears. Eddie smiles at him.

“I can help.” 

“Okay.” Ben says cheerfully, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulder as Richie sits down beside Bill and Bev, resting his head on her shoulder while he watches their game.

-x-

“Mike?” Ben calls out into the kitchen. It’s not big enough to lose anyone in but it’s a habit that’s hard to break. 

He and Eddie exchange a nervous glance when there’s no answer. No sounds at all really. 

“Mike? Are you in here?” Eddie calls, stepping into the room properly. 

They walk around the counter, to the front of the fridge. Ben opens his mouth to say something before he snaps it closed.

Blood.

There’s blood on the floor in front of the fridge. Thick and splattered drops on the tiles. Ben’s heart hurts as his eyes follow the trail to the door. 

“Go get the others.” He whispers before running towards the door. Sliding in the blood in his haste. 

Eddie’s gone before the words fully leave his mouth. 

-x-

“Don’t touch anything, don’t clean anything. This could be a m-murder too.” His stutters back finally, he wondered when it would come back tonight. 

“Bill, Bill I can’t—” Eddie’s voice is shaking, “I need to clean this up, I need…” He trails off, fingers twitching with the urge to clean. 

“Fucking, _d-don’t.”_ Bill demands, shrugging his coat on, “D-don’t let him.” He snaps at Bev and Richie. 

Eddie looks at the blood on the floor, he looks pale and nervous, like he might pass out at any second and Richie sighs softly.

“Go ahead, Eds, Mike’s probably fine, just has a cut or something.” He puts on his coat and hands Bev hers before they head outside too. 

-x-

“MIKE!” Bill’s voice barely carries over the wind and Ben frowns.

“Bill! It’s no use! He’ll never hear us out here if he’s even still—” He’s stopped mid sentence by Bev’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Go inside, check in there for any sign of him. I’ll get Bill.” She leans up, whispering it into his ear and he nods once before turning to the house and heading back inside, Richie following after him. 

-x-

Bev guides Bill, shivering and shaking into the house. He’s got frozen tears and their tracks on his face. It’s red and raw from the cold and Bev sighs softly. She hugs him as they stand in front of the fridge.

The room smells like bleach now. Eddie had volunteered to clean up, said he _had_ to. And Bill is furious but also grateful. He isn’t sure which thing to feel more of but he knows if he smelled the metallic tang of blood he’d be sick. 

“You want something cold to drink?” Bev asks, approaching the freezer, 

“N-n-no.” His stutter is worse and Eddie drapes a blanket over his shoulders, trying to help him warm up. 

“Suit yourself, I need a hard drink after all th—” Her sharp inhale has them spinning fast to look. She has a hand over her mouth as she looks at something in the freezer.

“Eddie don’t let him come over here.” She whispers it but Bill’s already on his feet, taking long strides to meet her at the freezer and yanking it open and out of her hand.

It’s Mike.

Or his head anyway. 

Looking out at them all with glassy and unseeing eyes. His mouth has been forced into an unnaturally wide smile, sewn up at the corners to keep it tight. 

There’s coagulated blood on everything underneath his neck. Bill chokes out a sob. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Eddie murmurs and runs from the kitchen for the bathroom, leaving Bev to hold Bill as he sobs into her shoulder.

They close the freezer and decide not to tell Ben about it. 

“We n-need to call the cops n-now.” Bill stutters out against her shoulder, “M-Mike was m-m-m— _fuck—_ murdered.”

“Bill, we can’t. The lines are down, remember?” Bev’s voice is soft and gentle and it just makes Bill sob harder, pulling away from her to wrap his arms around himself.

“T-th-then one of us n-needs to leave. We h-have to get help.” 

“When the others come back, we’ll tell them. We’ll make a plan.” She smiles and Bill feels his nerves alight with fear. _What if it was her?_

He smiles weakly at her and hopes she doesn’t know what he’s thinking. She sighs softly and helps him up, walking him into the living room. 

-x-

Ben’s checked the upstairs and didn’t see anyone, they _still_ don’t know where Mike went. Bev said she saw him in the kitchen last but Ben was there before he checked the bedrooms and didn’t see a sign of Mike _anywhere._ Even following the blood outside had yielded nothing. The snow has been coming down so thick and heavy they lost sight of it. 

Ben sighs as he makes his way towards the stairs. He stands at the top, hands on his hips as he bites his lip, lost in thought. 

Maybe Bill and Bev had better luck, they seemed to—his heart leaps into his throat as he’s shoved hard from behind. There’s a split second where he tries to catch himself on the railing but it’s like the world is moving in slow motion and he misses. He hits the stairs _hard_ as he falls tumbling and turning and losing track of what is up and what is down. How could they sneak up on him? The board that was directly behind him squeaks. Even as he falls, wheezing when he hits the ground, he thinks it has to be someone who knows the house, his eyes squint open to a blurry figure standing above him on the stairs. And the last thing he sees before he passes out is the person walking towards him with an axe and a dark grin. 

-x-

Eddie and Richie come back into the room at the same time, Eddie looks a little pale and sweaty and Richie looks red. 

“You alright?” Bev asks them both with an eyebrow raised. 

Richie coughs and nods, sitting beside Bill on the couch. He leans away and coughs pointedly. 

“J-jesus Richie, y-you smell like an ashtray.” 

“Sorry we don’t all smell like roses and rainbows, Bill.” Richie snaps and stands up again, “Sorry I fucking bothered you.” He storms back the way he came, heading towards his bedroom. 

“Fuck. I better apologize to his majesty. But I’m gonna see if I can find Ben first. Ask him if he thinks we should go for help.” Bill sighs as he stands and follows after him. 

Bev smiles over at Eddie, “How about you? You alright?” 

“It’s just...a lot, I threw up a lot, Bev.” His voice is hoarse and she nods in understanding. 

“Is it alright if I smoke in here? I’m afraid to go outside alone.”

-x-

Eddie and Bev stand at the window, it’s open so she can smoke without leaving the lingering smell of cigarettes in the air. 

“The guys have been gone a long time. Do you think they’re okay?” She asks as a silence breaker. They’ve been quiet since she asked if it was ok to smoke. He hasn’t said a word, just stared outside, stone faced and silent. 

“I’m sure they’re fine.” 

“Yeah but what if—”

“Bev, Eddie, I can’t find Richie or—” Bill stumbles into the room and they turn their back on the window. 

“Hey, have you seen Ben?” Richie interrupts, as he walks back into the room. He’s brushing snow off his shoulders. 

“Wh—no? We thought—Wasn’t he with one of you guys?” Bev sounds nervous now too.

They all look at each other and Bill narrows his eyes at Richie. 

“What?”

“Where were you, Richie?” 

“Nowhere.” He kicks the ground, a nervous tick he never quite kicked from when they were kids. He always does it when he doesn’t want to be honest.

“Oh my God.” Eddie sounds scared now, he pulls out his inhaler and takes two quick puffs, “What if—”

“Don’t say it.” Bev hisses as she slams the window closed. 

“Let’s go look for him.” Richie offers with a smile, trying to diffuse the palpable tension.

“We should be in pairs.” Bill immediately pipes up.

“Don’t be stupid,” Richie snaps, “We’ll cover more ground if we’re separate.”

Bill opens his mouth to argue but Eddie speaks before he can.

“Richie’s right. We’ll be able to look for him more easily if we’re separate.”

“ _Fine_.” Bill snarls and storms from the room. 

Richie rolls his eyes and walks off in a different direction. Bev and Eddie look at each other nervously before they walk away.

-x-

They join back together in the living room after an hour of searching. Richie, once again, walks in with snow on his shoulders and he shivers as the warmth courses through him. 

Bill doesn’t miss it and his eyes are narrow again. 

“Why were you outside Ri—”

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Eddie starts gasping, standing at the window he and Bev had stood at only an hour before, and staring out with his hand to his mouth.

“What is it Eddie wh—”

But then they all see it. There are arms and legs in the snow, arranged into a horrible simile of a smiley face. There’s blood pooling around the open sockets, making the eyes look like they’re crying and the mouth looks like a tongue is out. 

Bill feels bile rise in his throat, while Bev sobs into Richie’s chest. Eddie stands there in shock, just _staring_ in silence. 

“Uhm...I think we found Ben.” Richie laughs a little, his smile is strained and he looks as uncomfortable as the rest of them. 

“ _Richie_.” Eddie hisses, angry and defensive. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He whispers and wraps his arms around Bev’s shoulders. 

Bill’s mind races as he watches the exchange.

“Bill, I need to talk to you.” Bev says, wiping at her eyes, her mascara is long since gone and her eyes are perpetually red with tears. 

“Yeah, y-yeah okay Bev, in a minute.” 

“No, Bill I _need_ —”

“Not _now_ , Beverly.” Bill spits and storms out. Richie and Eddie look at each other nervously. 

“Bill, wait—” She follows him, but she’s not as familiar with the frat house as he is. 

She wanders around looking for him, ending up in his bedroom and then Ben’s. She holds his pillow for a while, sobbing into the case and breathing in his smell. Of all the people it didn’t deserve to happen to, she thinks Ben deserved it the least. 

She has a sudden moment of clarity and her despair transforms into hatred and fury as she stands from Ben’s bed. 

She _knows_ who it is, it has to be him, she _saw him_ with a knife to Mike’s throat earlier in the night but she hasn’t had a chance to tell anyone. She does now. Even if all but three— _two,_ she supposes—of her friends are dead now. She just needs to find Bill and—

She isn’t sure what it is that wraps around her throat but she fights it. She claws at her neck as her airway is cut off and she gasps. 

“B-Bill.” Her voice doesn’t carry, hoarse as it is. And the assailant laughs at her. 

“Stuttering like our good friend Bill. Maybe you should have sucked his dick instead of Ben’s. Maybe then Ben would be alive.” He pauses with a soft exhale, “I’m kidding, I would have killed his naive ass anyway. Fucking waste of space that he was.” 

She tries to claw at his face but he’s got it covered, all she grabs is cloth, “Stupid slut, you think I wouldn’t be prepared for that?” He snarls and the thing around her neck—it’s Christmas lights she thinks—tightens like she’s offended him.

She chooses instead to focus on his hands, but she finds gloves there, like he knew she would do that too, her fingers go back to clutching futilely at the cord around her neck as her vision blurs and her breathing gets worse.

“You’re turning _blue_ , Beverly. Shame you couldn’t stay a festive red for longer.” She hears his laugh again and she sobs, “That’s okay though, soon you’ll be green and fit right in all over again.” 

She knows she’s dying and she cries, she just wants Ben or Bill to hold her and tell her things are going to be okay. 

“Don’t worry, Bill will see you, he’ll know it wasn’t you. But he thought it was for a while.” Those are the last words she hears before everything goes black.

-x-

Bill rushes into the room at the same time Eddie and Richie both enter from different doors.

“I c-can’t fuh-find her anyw-wuh-where.” His stutter is worse, he can hear it in his own ears and then he can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat when he sees the cheerfully flashing Christmas lights in Richie’s glasses and the way his eyes widen in fear.

“Uh, Bill? I think I found her.” He says with a shaky voice, he points to a spot behind Bill and he knows he shouldn’t turn to look, he knows whatever he’s about to see isn’t going to be good, but he turns anyway. 

He can’t keep the choked sob in his throat and it escapes as he falls to his knees, crying when he sees Bev. Her eyes are glassy and unseeing from where she’s strung up in a cruel mockery of the crucifiction of Christ. Her arms are splayed to her sides, draped in tinsel and garland as the Christmas lights flicker and blink to the song that’s been muted since the beginning of the night.

Her hair, bright red and beautiful, is tangled around the cord wrapped tight around her neck. He can see the indents of where the lights had dug into and pierced her skin. She struggled, he can tell from, the dull scratches around her neck and it just makes him feel _worse_.

He turns back to his last two friends and just stares at them brokenly. 

He knows it was one of them. It had to be. Eddie’s not strong enough to overpower Beverly. There’s no way. Bill’s face hardens and he lunges for Richie.

“You _bastard_ .” He snarls and Richie, caught off guard, is tackled to the floor, a loud _‘oof’_ sound escaping his lungs as he’s slammed into the ground. 

“Bill, what the fuck?!” Richie wheezes, trying to stop Bill from hitting him. 

Neither of them notice as someone approaches from behind. Richie hears the _squelch_ of something piercing flesh and then Bill’s looking down as blood is pooling on his chest. 

“You guessed wrong~” Eddie’s singsong voice trails out from behind Bill and Richie can see the hurt and apology in his eyes before Eddie grabs his head and cracks his neck. He’s dead before Richie can breathe.

His body collapses hard onto Richie’s chest, pinning him and preventing him from moving as he hyperventilates. 

“Eddie, Eddie what the _fuck?!_ ” His voice is high and scared as he watches Eddie approach easily, a soft smile on his face.

“Shhh.” He shushes him, pressing a finger to Richie’s lip, “Just rest.” He doesn’t see the needle but he feels it pierce his neck and he cries as he feels Eddie’s hand brush his hair from his face, “Just rest, Richie.” 

And with that, Richie blacks out. 

-x-

He wakes tied to a chair. He’s groggy and doesn't immediately remember where he is. He smells meat and he wonders briefly if Ben’s started dinner yet. 

_Ben_. He’s kicked awake and he struggles hard against his restraints. He remembers now. His friends are dead and Eddie killed them all. 

“Oh! You’re awake!” 

His eyes finally stray to the table and he vomits all over himself when he sees what he smelled cooking. 

It’s Ben, or what’s left of him. His torso is cooked to perfection with his head still attached like a roast pig. There’s some strips of flesh that are nearby and Richie has a sneaking suspicion that it’s what’s left of Mike. 

“Eddie—” He chokes out before he gets sick again, yesterday’s dinner coming up his throat and covering his lap as he watches Eddie cut a piece of Ben’s shoulder and _eat it._

“Rich, it’s so good, here. You must be hungry.” The fork comes towards Richie and he turns his head, bile threatening to rise this time now that his stomach is empty of solid contents, “I understand, there’s a lot of excitement. It’ll be here if you change your mind.” 

He feels tears trailing down his face. He doesn’t understand.

“Eddie, _why_ they were our _friends_.” 

“No, they were _your_ friends.” Eddie says coolly, “ _You_ were _my_ friend Richie and they were taking you from me.”

“Wh—”

“Stan was always bragging about how he was your _best_ friend. But _I_ was _first_.” Richie watches with horror and dread as Eddie continues to cut Ben’s torso up aggressively.

“And fucking _Bill_ ,” Eddie scoffs, “I _saw_ how you _looked_ at him Richie.” 

Richie’s heart clenches and his throat closes up, “Wha—“

“You’re not _subtle_ Rich. But that’s okay. Because now that the other guys are gone there’s just _me_ and _you_.” 

Richie eyes the knife Eddie’s twirling with that hazy look in his eyes that he had earlier in the night.

“What about _Bev_? If you’re so sure I was looking at B-Bill or Mike like I was gay—and I’m not Eds. I’m not gay. I don’t—“

“Oh Richie, you don’t have to lie to me.” Eddie coos and Richie flinches when he walks closer, “It’s okay.” And then he kisses Richie on the mouth, it’s gentle and soft and Richie’s heart races, _this_ is all he’s wanted but not _like this._ Not covered in his own vomit while he’s tied to a chair and their friends are _dead_ all around them. 

“But, to answer your question.” Eddie says as he stands up straight and walks back to the oven, “She figured me out. She was going to warn you and Bill. And I couldn’t have her ruining my plan.” 

“Wh-what _was_ the plan Eddie? Why did you do all this? They were our friends.”

“No, Richie, I told you, they were _your_ friends, weren’t you listening?” He sounds a little frustrated now as he hip checks the oven door closed, a tray of cooki— _nope that’s meat, oh god, that’s some sort of_ **_meat_ **—in his hands. 

His smile softens though when he looks at Richie. 

“But I understand why you’re not listening, I know it’s hard to focus right now,” He places the tray on the table in front of Richie, “Why don’t you have a cookie?” 

He pushes a piece of meat towards Richie’s face, it’s in the shape of a Christmas tree, and he sees some in the shapes of stars and gingerbread men and he feels tears in his eyes when he sees a _very_ familiar tattoo on one of the pieces.

“Is that fucking _Bev_?” His voice sounds high to his own ears as his vision narrows.

“Yep!” Eddie pops the ‘p’ and has a wide smile on his face, “That fucking whore thought she was _so perfect._ Always finding _any_ fucking excuse to be with you all the time.”

“We were the only two who _smoked_ Eddie, of course sh—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Eddie finally snaps, slamming his hands hard on the table and Richie flinches, “You think I’m fucking _stupid,_ Rich?!” 

“You think I didn’t see how she was always all over you?” Eddie snarls, eyes wild and fierce, “Always holding your hand or kissing your face or _running her fingers through your fucking hair. Like she_ **_owned_ ** _you.”_

Richie swallows down the bile that wants to come up _again_. 

“But she _didn’t_ Rich.” His voice is soft again and his smile is back, “ _No_ one owns you.” He walks towards Richie and he leans back, trying to stay as far away from him as possible, “No one but _me.”_

His hand is so gentle when he runs his fingers through Richie’s hair, reminiscent of Bev’s soft fingers and teasing touches. 

He can’t fight the tears that pool in his eyes. 

“Eddie—”

“Shh. It’s okay Richie. I know, this is a lot, but we have time.” He leans close to press a kiss to Richie’s mouth again but he turns his head.

Eddie looks at him, that wild fury in his eyes again.

“Eds, I can’t kiss you with vomit all down my front.” He laughs nervously, this is fine, he can do this. He just needs to get loose. 

Eddie’s face softens again in understanding and he stands up straight again. 

“Richie, you’re so kind.” He grabs the knife off the table and approaches Richie and he doesn’t flinch, no matter how much he wants to. 

He listens as the knife slices so easily through the zip ties around his wrists and then they’re cut free and Richie immediately grabs at them, rubbing the feeling into them and laughing a little. 

“Thanks Eds, let me go clean up and I’ll come right back.”

“We should go together.” 

“No!” His suddenness makes Eddie narrow his eyes, “I mean,” Richie backpedals a little, smiling, “I wanna surprise you, Eddie baby. You know, clean up, get romantic.” 

He sells it with a hand gently pressed to the side of Eddie’s face and he feels a tugging on his heart when he sees how Eddie melts into his touch, eyes closing and face turning into his palm. 

He smiles and then walks out of the kitchen, willing his legs not to shake, begging himself not to run. 

-x-

He makes it to the en-suite bathroom in his bedroom and breaks down crying immediately. 

In one day he lost _every_ friend he had and it breaks him. He sobs for a few minutes before he realizes he has to clean up, he has to convince Eddie he’s into this. It’s his _only_ chance. 

He cleans up slowly, but thoroughly. He’s careful as he brushes his teeth and fixes his hair. His eyes are red and swollen but he’ll pretend it’s excitement. This is just like playing a part. Richie can do this. 

He puts on the shirt that Eddie bought for him. It’s soft and comfortable and he wishes he had admitted before now, just how much he loved it, how much he loved _Eddie._

He doesn’t love him anymore.

He inhales deeply and exhales slowly as he pockets a razor from his secret stash. 

He can do this.

-x-

Going back into the kitchen he sees Eddie is working on a dessert and he wishes he could smile. Wishes he could enjoy the sight of Eddie cooking a meal for him in Richie’s apron. But he can’t because it’s ruined by the Bev cookies, the Mike jerky, and the roast made of Ben. 

He’s an actor though. He’s a professional. So he smiles. He plays the part of a happy and comfortable boyfriend.

“Whatcha cookin’ Eds?” 

“A dessert for you.” His voice is singsongy and the razor feels heavy in his pocket as he walks up behind Eddie. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” He hears the knife cutting something and he feels his heart in his throat, as he reaches for the razor, “I love you, Richie.” 

“I know, Eds.” Richie says with a thick voice as his fingers curl around the blade. 

“That’s why I’m sorry.” 

Richie freezes, letting go of the blade in his pocket.

It’s his downfall.

“What are you sorry for, Eddie?” He’s curious and he knows it’s a weakness of his but he can’t help it. 

“For this.” 

The pain doesn’t really register but the warmth does as it flows from his neck. He falls to his knees before slamming his back onto the floor as he gasps for air. 

Eddie’s on top of him in an instant, eyes full of hatred and malice that Richie’s never seen before. 

This isn’t his Eddie.

“I’m not stupid, Rich. I know what you were planning. I knew you would never love me back. But it’s okay. I’ll join you soon. I love you so much.” His touch on Richie’s face is gentle and kind. 

And Richie feels tears streaming down his face and mixing with the blood coming from his neck. He gasps softly and reaches for Eddie’s face, smearing blood all along his cheek as he touches him. 

“I loved you too, Eds.” He’s hoarse, can hear it in his own ears, he knows he’s dying, he doesn’t fight it and smiles instead. 

“...What?” His voice is so _so_ soft that for a moment Richie thinks he imagined the question but he sees Eddie’s eyes searching his own and he decides to just come clean. 

“I was g-going to tell you.” Richie smiles, face wet with tears as he recognizes the irony, “I was waiting until midnight. Wanted it to be the first gift you got.”

Eddie looks panicked suddenly, he tries to put pressure on Richie’s neck but Richie pushes his hands away gently.

“The others knew. We…” His brain feels fuzzy, his limbs heavy, and he’s cold suddenly, but he has to get the words out, “We set up this whole thing. They were gonna get you to go outside wi—”

He breaks off into a coughing fit and his hand falls from Eddie’s face, leaving a bright streak of blood there. 

“Richie, please—” Eddie’s looking more like himself now. Like the Eddie he loved once, the soft one who always yelled at him for not being more careful while he bandaged up his knuckles or knees. 

“Outside with me, during a smoke break. I was going to kiss you and tell you I loved you and then we were gonna hook up in my room.” He tries to wink but he doesn’t know if it works, instead he smiles at his own joke, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

“Tell me now.” Eddie begs, placing Richie’s hand back on his face as he kneels over him, “Richie, tell me now, _please_.”

Richie’s eyes are unfocused when he looks to the digital clock on the stove and he struggles to focus them. It's like he’s not wearing his glasses but he knows he is. He knows it’s the blood loss. 

Eventually he gets there, sees the time, and it’s after midnight. His eyes slide back to Eddie, kneeling above him with tears in his eyes. 

And even if he doesn’t mean it now, after the whole ordeal, he wants Eddie happy and it’s the least he could do with his dying breath. 

“I love you, Eds. Merry Christmas.” And then he stops breathing and his eyes unfocus for the last time. 

Eddie sobs, broken, above him, begging him in soft whispers to be okay, that he’s sorry. 

Eddie grabs the knife off the counter, the one still covered in Richie’s blood and he rubs at his eyes, almost regretting every decision he made tonight. 

Richie _loved him_ _back._ And that’s all Eddie needed to know. To _hear_. He knows he’ll go through with this now. 

He doesn’t feel the blade as he slides it down his forearm. He doesn’t feel the warmth of his blood as it seeps out from the deep cut while he does the same thing to his other arm. 

He holds Richie’s hand, brushing the hair back from his face, whispering sweet words of love and adoration to his quickly cooling corpse while he bleeds out above him. 

Eddie had a lot of regrets about his life, but this? Joining the Losers club back together in his death? Wasn’t one of them. 

He dies with a smile on his face, straddling the legs of the love of his life while his best friends are in pieces around them. 


End file.
